


high saturation

by dondengaeshi



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:01:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27829396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dondengaeshi/pseuds/dondengaeshi
Summary: i don't remember why i wrote this or what inspired me to, but i know it's a short thing thats very special to mesong rec -at the mercy of a dream // shiina mota
Relationships: Na Jaemin/Park Jisung
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	high saturation

When he opens his eyes, the first thing he's aware of is the fan whirring above his head, slow enough to not really do anything to cool him down, but fast enough to lose his focus in the spinning of the blades. 

His hand is resting on his stomach, his other arm cushioning the back of his head. It's an odd position. He usually sleeps on his side. 

He shrugs off the blanket that's bunched up around his knees, and as he does so, something hard clatters against each other, and he remembers. He had been writing last night. He fumbles around the fabric to find the notebook, flips through the pages to find where he left off.

He never does. All the pages are empty. 

That's fine, he thinks. That's okay. 

He fishes out the pens and pencils he had gathered so they don't poke him the next time he comes to bed and places them in his pocket. Somehow, it's odd. The scuff of skin against fabric enthralls him, and for a few moments he just sits at the edge of his bed and wonders how something so small can be so loud. 

Jaemin isn't in his bed. The clock centered in their room reads half past ten. He watches the second hand jerk itself in small motions around the clock once, twice, then stops midway through on the third run. When he locks his eyes on the minute hand, the gears of the clock suddenly make themself known to his ears, steady and predictable. The anticipation gets to him, and before he can even realize what he's doing, he's reaching up, stretching to unhook the clock off of its nail and taking out its batteries. 

It falls silent. Jisung considers the dead clock in his hand. Up close, he sees that the glass is covered in near-invisible scratches, an endless array of small white lines of varying length and depth. 

Jaemin had decorated the room. He must have had this clock for a long time. 

Jisung reaches up again to put the clock back up on its nail and steps out of his room. There's a pale light shining down the hall, the kind that at just the right angle illuminates all of the particles of dust in the air. He huffs a breath and watches them flutter in front of him, only to settle back on their empty cloud, hardly having enough time to part ways for Jisung to pass through, catching on his sweater and in his hair and on his eyelashes. 

He's surprised to find Chenle and Renjun shouting at each other in the living room, Switch controllers in hand. Shouldn't he have heard them down the hall? 

Jeno is watching them from the couch with a soft smile, laying on his side with a throw cushion hugged to his chest. He doesn't notice Jisung walk in, and neither do Renjun or Chenle, so he continues on silent feet towards the kitchen. 

Jaemin sits alone at the table, scrolling through something on his phone with an untouched bagel on a paper plate in front of him. Beside it is a container of jam with a clean knife balanced on top of the cover. He doesn't notice Jisung either, so he just watches him. 

The pink is fading from his hair. He'd never say it, but he always thought it was a sweet color on him. Anything else wouldn't show off his gentleness. Otherwise, it's frizzy and dry and falls in front of his eyes in the way Jisung knows bothers him. 

"Hyung," he says, and Jaemin looks up at him. 

"Maknae," he greets. He glances at his phone and back to Jisung, like he doesn't know what to do. That's alright, Jisung thinks. 

"Hyung, don't you think ticking clocks are so loud?" he ventures, pulling out a chair opposite of him to sit. It feels wrong, somehow, so he stands again, pushing in his chair gently so it doesn't screech, and takes the chair beside Jaemin instead. He briefly wonders if he's sick, because he can feel his body heat even through the space between them. His eyes are bright though, so maybe that's not it. 

"I don't," Jaemin tells him. He always speaks so carefully in the mornings, none of the pizazz and brute force as when he's on camera. "Do you?" 

"I didn't until I woke up just now." 

Jaemin raises his eyebrows, the hair falling in front of his face going along with the motion, light and pliant. "The ticking clock woke you up?" 

Jisung shakes his head. "No, I don't think so. I woke up, and suddenly the clock just seemed really loud to me." 

Jaemin locks his phone and looks at him. Jisung likes that. Jaemin really made you feel like the most interesting person on earth when he gives you his full attention. "That's odd, maknae. Do you want to get a new clock?" 

"No, not if you don't want to. I just took the batteries out." Then he asks, "Is that okay?" 

"I don't mind," Jaemin says, then he smiles. Jisung smiles back. 

x

They have a photoshoot today, and this time Haechan is here with them. The sun is bright when he shuffles out of their escort van. In fact, it was bright when they stepped out of their accommodation, too. Not hot, not warm--just bright. Bright enough to make everything it touched seem equal parts alive and fake, illuminating the sheer existence of everything around him while also rendering them completely null. Null, but evidently still perceivable. 

Renjun and Chenle were yelling at each other for the whole ride here, and midway through Haechan joined in. On another day, Jisung thinks he might have liked to stir the pot, too. But not today. He's content to watch the smiles and laughs and jeers flood his senses, not even allowing space enough to think. 

That's not exactly accurate, though. He is thinking, but they don't feel like his thoughts. They're arguing about one of the Switch games they had been playing that morning, and though Jisung doesn't understand any of what they're talking about, he soaks in all of it like they're the only external stimuli he has to react to. For a while he forgets himself, and it's nice that way.

When they're all shuffled off for makeup or hairstyling and everything else, it's quieter. Jisung ends up following Jaemin around the studio, because that's what he usually does when Chenle isn't around, and because Jaemin never seems to mind. He always did have this reliable motherly air about him that Jisung thinks most people take for granted. He, at least, tried not to. 

The loud flashing of the cameras remind him of the ticking clock. It's hard to take his mind off of those clattering shutters, even with Jaemin in the background making smalltalk with the hair stylists. He sits through it though, plays on his phone until the director calls him and it's his turn up on set. 

It's not until Jisung is stepping back into his bedroom that he realizes he really doesn't remember the photoshoot at all. The clearest picture in his mind is Jaemin's faded pink hair against the blank walls of their waiting lobby, and those loud, loud shutters.

**Author's Note:**

> i don't remember why i wrote this or what inspired me to, but i know it's a short thing thats very special to me
> 
> song rec - [at the mercy of a dream // shiina mota](https://www.nicovideo.jp/watch/sm18485900)


End file.
